


Again, In Dreams

by isingonly4myangel



Category: The King and I - Rodgers/Hammerstein
Genre: Dream Violence, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25895011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isingonly4myangel/pseuds/isingonly4myangel
Summary: Anna and the King both dream about the evening's end.





	1. Anna

**Author's Note:**

> Older work, only just posting here.

Louis was fast asleep in the bedroom which adjoined his mother's. He could not see her movements, her hands clutching tightly at the sheets, her head occasionally jerking from side to side, her body constantly changing position. He could not see the crease on her forehead between her brows. He could not hear the small, frightened noise she made, nor her gasp a moment later, nor her muted scream which followed after a time.

No, Louis was fast asleep. And so was Anna; However, her dreams were not so peaceful.

She dreamed she was once again dancing with the king. The Kralahome entered, breaking the spell, and informed them of the capture of Tuptim. Again, she watched as the girl was dragged in, screaming. Again, she flung herself at Anna's feet, grasping at the skirts of her dress, begging the schoolteacher not to let them hurt her. Again, she fought with the king, accusing him of being heartless and incapable of love. Again, she protested that she would not run away down the hall, but would stand and watch him do it. But this time, he did not again find himself unable to whip the girl. Anna watched, horrified, as he brought the whip down with a crack, the girl's back arching as she screamed in pain. Anna tried to run to him, stop him, to pull Tuptim from the hands of the guards holding her down, but she could not move. As hard as she ran towards them, she never moved any closer. Repeatedly, the whip cracked down on the girl's back, blood seeping through the shirt she wore. Anna dropped to the ground with a scream, in the center of a pool of lavender fabric, sobbing as she knew she could do nothing to save the poor child.


	2. The King

The king did not dream peacefully either. Instead, he relived the ending of the evening. He revelled in the feel of Anna's waist beneath his hand, the sound of her skirts as he whisked her around the room, her laughter as they spun. The moment was shattered as the Kralahome informed them that Tuptim had been captured trying to escape. The schoolteacher's words and accusations once again pierced his ears and wounded his pride. Despite her arguments, he would do what should and must be done, whether or not she was present. Determined to show this extremely difficult woman that he was strong, a ruler, a true king, he held the whip in his hands, standing over the form of the girl held down by the guards. "No!" he heard Anna shout, as he raised the whip above his head. This time, he brought it down and the loud crack echoed off the walls of marble. But it was not Tuptim who received the blow. On her knees above the girl was Anna, her skirts a large, lavender puddle around her, her arms thrown up to shield her face and head. His eyes widened in shock and horror as he raised his arm above his head once more. Anna lifted her head to look at him, a curl of auburn hair falling on her cheek, her face disbelieving and pleading. His heart broke as again he brought the whip down, his arm acting of it's own accord. The cry of pain that escaped from Anna's mouth as she collapsed into herself cut him to the core. His eyes filled with tears as he whipped her again and again and again, her sobs reverberating off the marble room, and all the while he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and tell her how incredibly sorry he was.

By the time his arm had ceased its repeating motions, Anna lay on the marble floor beneath him, surrounded by the fabric of her gown. Tuptim had disappeared, along with the guards. Dark red blood soaked through the beautiful lavender silk of her dress, staining the white porcelain of her bare shoulders. She did not move.


End file.
